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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843073">Strictly Business, Wing (Bitches)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK'>CrowleyLovesUSUK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Castiel/Dean Winchester BDSM, Charlie Bradbury &amp; Dean Winchester Friendship, Charlie Bradbury Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous Sam Winchester, Inspired by the movie 'Hitch', M/M, Romantic Comedy, Spanking, Stalker, Various Supernatural Characters - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:07:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak has an almost perfect life. He’s a gossip blogger for the popular celebrity news outlet ‘Dish the Dirt.’  He has a cute little bungalow near the beach, loves his job, recently adopted a cat, and a few days ago, he met the most beautiful man alive, Dean Winchester. After a night of raw passion, Cas thinks that Dean might actually be The One.  The future looks bright until he is forced to fight for a promotion at work that could make or break him...and by default, Dean. Dean and his best friend Charlie, opened their own business a few years back, where those lacking in the skills to find love, can hire a Wingman (or Wingchick) to help them out.  When Dean’s company accidentally slights Cas’ best friend, Castiel makes it his mission to bring ‘WingBitches’ down. In order to make his story fly, Cas needs help, which comes in the form of his sugar-addicted, thirty-something, screenwriter brother, Gabriel. Cas convinces Gabe to hire WingBitches, unaware that Gabe has an agenda of his own. When Dean is paired to help Gabe date his own brother, will he help, or hinder?  Is the budding relationship between Dean and Castiel strong enough to survive betrayal?  And who is following Sam Winchester home every night?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all!  So this is a little romantic comedy that has been banging around in my brain for a bit and I finally sat down and started working on it.  </p><p>There WILL be BDSM elements in this fic, which you will notice right off the bat, since these boys just jump right to the good stuff.  Always remember that if you're doing a scene that you remain safe.  Consent is sexy!</p><p>This fic is loosely inspired by the movie 'Hitch,' but will differ from that immensely by the end.</p><p>It is also not finished and doesn't have a posting schedule, (because I'm the worst), but hopefully the fact that it is posted will kick me in the ass to finish it promptly.</p><p>There will be author's notes at the beginning of any chapter that I think might contain something that will squick or trigger, and I will be adding tags as I go along.</p><p>Character Ages are as follows:<br/>*Dean, 28<br/>*Castiel, 28<br/>*Sam, 24<br/>*Gabriel, 35</p><p>I do not own Supernatural, (or Hitch), in any way, I'm just using their swing-set and dripping my ice cream all over it.  Because I'm a dick that way...</p><p>This first chapter is super NSFW...you have been warned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For Castiel Novak, life was something to be treasured and enjoyed--and his just so happened to be damn close to perfect.  He loved his job as a gossip blogger, lived in an adorable beach bungalow that he’d inherited from his Aunt Amara when she’d retired overseas, and he’d just adopted a cat.  The only thing that he seemed to be lacking at the moment, was an attractive man to warm his bed for the next twelve hours.</p><p> </p><p>Cas had been dragged out to a small club on the way off the hot list by his best friend, Balthazar, who had since disappeared with a set of blonde twins.  Now Cas was nursing a martini, wearing his reading glasses and trying to entertain himself by people watching.  He didn’t plan on leaving alone; it had been far too long since he’d entertained a gentleman caller, and Castiel was feeling the itch.  </p><p> </p><p>It was rare for him to pick up a stranger in a bar.  These days, he relied mostly on hookup apps where the boys were plentiful and willing to do all sorts of filthy things for a man like Cas Novak.  There was something commanding about him, even over text messages, and he had needy twinks lined up around the block whenever he wanted them.  The main thing about his hookups was that Castiel never let someone into his bed more than once.  He didn't want, or need, attachment of any kind.  Wham, bam, thank you, <em> Sir </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Swivelling in his chair, Castiel leaned one elbow on the bar, raising his martini to his pink lips as he gazed out at the thrumming crowd.  The bass of the music vibrated through the floor and into his bones.  He wanted to get out of here--but first, he needed to find his companion.  Who would be the lucky man tonight?</p><p> </p><p>Several <em> very </em>attractive young gentlemen were eyeing him from a distance, some from the walls, or other tables; a few from the dance floor, over the shoulders of their partners.  Cas wasn’t interested in them.  He wanted someone who would stay during the evening if someone else caught their eye.  And he wasn’t about to go to someone--he liked his boys to come to him.</p><p> </p><p>From behind him came the clearing of a throat and Castiel looked over his shoulder to find a passable man eyeing him up. He was unconventionally attractive for an older man. Salt and pepper hair, a trimmed goatee, and he was dressed in all white.  It was blinding in the darkness of the club. Castiel vaguely wondered how the man got admitted. Just because The Bunker wasn’t the hottest spot in the city any longer, didn’t mean that the bouncers weren’t discerning. The man must have money, or be a power behind the throne. </p><p> </p><p>“And how are we doing this lovely evening,” the man drawled, a thick Southern accent playing on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>Castiel tried not to roll his eyes. He despised people who used ‘the royal we’ or referred to themselves in the third person. It was unsettling to say the least.  “No thank you,” he said, turning away. </p><p> </p><p>“Now hold on a moment,” the man moved like lightning, scooting around to box Castiel against the bar which made his hackles rise.  “We didn’t even get to know one another. My name is Asmodeus.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure that you will have your pick tonight,” Cas said firmly.  “But I will not be among that number. You aren’t my type.”  </p><p> </p><p>It was true. The man was obviously an inexperienced dominant—either that, or he was one of the kind who used kink to hide their abuse. Either way, Cas wanted nothing to do with the man. And it had little to do with the fact that Cas wasn’t a sub. </p><p> </p><p>“Why you little brat,” Asmodeus said.  He moved again, leaning in toward Cas, close—too close. He could smell the booze on the guy’s breath and knew this wasn’t going to end well. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” another voice came from behind the man in white. “Asmodouche.  I believe he told you to get lost.”</p><p> </p><p>Asmodeus whirled, eyes narrowing at the sandy haired man with broad shoulders covered by a dusty leather jacket.  “No one was talkin’ to you <em> Mike </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Mike said. “Get lost before I lay you out on the floor and you end up going home alone.  No one wants to fuck the loser of a bar fight, and you know it.”</p><p> </p><p>With his jaw clenched, Asmodeus glanced back at Cas who was glaring at him. Something must have finally registered and he slumped and walked away muttering under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>The young man, Mike, smiled at Cas in a friendly way and said, “I hope he wasn’t bothering you too much.  He’s kind of a giant dick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all,” Castiel said. He despised that someone had ‘come to his rescue,’ but it had saved him from punching the man himself, and it had brought him what he was searching for. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, you have a good night,” Mike said. And then he winked, tacking a, “<em> Sir </em> ,” onto the end.  It <em> did </em>things to Cas. Things he didn’t want to happen in a club, and he knew without a doubt that he’d found the man he would take home. </p><p> </p><p>“Mike, was it?”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled humorlessly, glancing around before stepping close to Cas.  “Let’s just day I’ve dealt with him before and a fake name can sometimes be easier.”  He held out his hand. “Name’s Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds fancy,” Dean said. “Like a celebrity. You an actor’s kid or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or something,” Cas shrugged. He still hasn’t released Dean’s hand.  “What are you looking for tonight, Dean?  Something easy?  Or something life-altering?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe somewhere in between.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel hummed. “I believe anything with you would be phenomenal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right back at ya,” Dean grinned, allowing Cas to rub his thumb across his knuckles. “You seem like you’d be pretty life altering yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“I endeavor to that effect, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You talk like a professor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not a professor,” Cas said. “But I am a writer.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would explain it,” Dean smiled. He moved closer and plucked Cas’ martini out of his hand, boldly taking a sip. “What do you want from me, Cas?”</p><p> </p><p>“For starters, I want to take you home and spank your ass raw for being so insolent by stealing my expensive drink.”</p><p> </p><p>“That so?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”  Cas took the martini back and set it on the bar. “Then I’d want to restrain those beautiful wrists of yours, maybe put a ring on your cock and let you feel how you infuriate me as I fill you up with my seed.”</p><p> </p><p>“You want to punish me with your dick...<em> Sir </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean was biting his plump lower lip and Castiel was doing all that he could to maintain control. “I want to make you be a good boy, Dean.  Would you like to do that for me?  Show me how good you are?  Or would you prefer to remain naughty?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes it’s fun to be bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t fuck bad boys.”</p><p> </p><p>He watched Dean’s eyes dilate as he sucked in air. “Yeah, Cas...<em> Sir </em>.  I can be a good boy for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll see.”  Castiel threw some bills down to cover the tip and stood, pulling Dean along by the hand that he’d never dropped. They walked outside and Castiel indicated toward the beach with his head. “I live a few blocks west of here.  We can walk.”  He turned without another word, confident that Dean would follow. </p><p> </p><p>Just as he’d predicted, Dean scrambled to keep up, staying a few footsteps behind Cas the entire way to his home. As he opened the wrought iron gate to his property, Dean let out a low whistle. “Nice digs.”</p><p> </p><p>“I inherited it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was going to say, a place like this and you must be a damn good writer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still am a damn good writer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t doubt that, Cas.”</p><p> </p><p>He glanced toward Dean sharply at the use of his name. Once they were inside, Cas stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it over a chair. He offered his guest some water, but Dean declined, his eyes roaming the living space, as though he was taking notes. </p><p> </p><p>“Before we begin, what would you like out of tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean looked surprised at the question.  “I’d like a good orgasm,” he said honestly. “And I can’t deny that the idea of you tying me up and spanking me doesn’t have me hard as fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>“Safeword?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tonight?  You pick.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean’s eyes sprung to him at the denial.  He looked confused, perhaps a bit lost. “You don’t want—“</p><p> </p><p>“I absolutely want,” Castiel said. “But I need you to be a good boy and pick your own safe word. I can’t trust anything I pick won't slip your mind in the heat of the moment.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Dean said, “Fair enough.  Fine. Then it’s ‘Poughkeepsie.’”</p><p> </p><p>Cas eyed him for a moment and then said, “Excellent.”  He took a seat in the center of his sofa and crossed his legs, resting the left ankle onto his right knee.  “Dean, you are going to strip, completely nude, and then I want you on your knees at my feet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir.”  Dean’s voice had a husky quality, as though he’d been gargling with whiskey. It was erotic and went straight to Castiel’s dick. This was going to be such a wonderful night, he could already tell that he’d hit the jackpot with Dean. </p><p> </p><p>Leaning back, his muscles relaxed, Cas watched Dean intently as the younger man slowly began to remove his clothes. The leather jacket went first, tossed onto the sofa next to Cas. He’d have to punish Dean for the insolence—later. </p><p> </p><p>Toeing off his work boots, Dean kicked them out of the way, smirking at Cas.  It was adorable.  In response, Castiel raised a single eyebrow and fixed his gaze directly into Dean.  He smiled when his boy’s breath hitched, and he paused, fingers fumbling with the plastic buttons on his flannel shirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stop now, Dean.”  It wasn’t a request, and he knew that it was obvious. </p><p> </p><p>Dean licked those delicious looking lips and nodded once. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes...Sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy.  Now, stop dawdling.  I want to see what I have to work with.”</p><p> </p><p>He was pleased to note that his words caused Dean to worry that lower lip.  It was utterly erotic, and yet so innocent. Perfect. Cas was going to enjoy bringing this willful man under his guidance. Shame that they would only have this one night—already this experience was much more erotic than many in Cas’ past.  Perhaps...no. He had these rules for a reason, after all. Cas didn’t have time to be tied down to a single man. He was focused on so much in his life that now was not the time. Maybe someday, though. And on that day, he would curse that he had already bedded and abandoned Dean.</p><p> </p><p>Dean would be an amazing one to settle down with someday. Cas could just tell. </p><p> </p><p>The willful defiance combined with the utter surrender. He was going to enjoy taking as much as he could from Dean. Watching him fall apart would sate Cas for days. But putting him back together would be the real treat. </p><p> </p><p>Before him, Dean pulled off his tight, grey undershirt, exposing his tanned and lightly freckled chest. Pert, pink nipples that begged to be suckled taunted Cas, but he didn’t even blink. He could see the frustration mounting in Dean’s form as he failed to get much of a reaction from Cas. It was amusing.  </p><p> </p><p>Dean’s hands trailed down his chiseled chest, the fingers tangling lightly in the thin trail of hair that disappeared below Dean’s jeans. His boy was teasing. How adorable. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Dean looked at him through his lashes. “You’re not enjoying yourself, Sir?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am, very much,” Castiel praised. “But not the teasing. I gave you an order. Now do it, and get on your knees, before I make your punishment worse.”</p><p> </p><p>He watched the slow smirk spread across Dean’s face and he knew exactly what the man would do. Just as he suspected, Dean slowed, teasing more now. His fingers rubbed along the waist of his worn, ripped jeans, slowly hooking his thumbs into the band.  He let Dean play for another minute before he cleared his throat and said one word, only one—Dean’s name. </p><p> </p><p>Something in his tone must have conveyed how serious he was, because Dean was ripping his jeans off, along with his tight blue briefs and hurrying to kneel before Cas on the hard, wooden floor. </p><p> </p><p>He had positioned himself directly in front of Cas and it was clear on his face that Dean was ready to begin. “Impatient, pet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just want you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe that I told you in the club that I don’t fuck bad boys.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean nodded, ducking his head and looking embarrassed. “I can be good.”  God, his voice. So rough, yet with that innocent quality. Cas wondered if Dean was very experienced with men, or if he was just that good at being within the scene?</p><p> </p><p>Putting both feet on the floor, Cas leaned forward, and moved Dean’s hands so that they were placed in his lap.  He placed a finger under Dean’s chin, and lifted it only a fraction. “Look at me, my sweet boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean’s lashes fluttered as he gazed through them, his intoxicating eyes boring into Castiel’s. They watched one another for a few moments before Cas abruptly stood, his crotch eye level to Dean, the hard bulge mere inches away. “Stay.  I shall return.”</p><p> </p><p>Retreating to his bedroom, Cas was certain that Dean would remain exactly where he was. He took his time retrieving the items that he desired from his box. The cock ring, lube, a plug, and the plain paddle.  After a few moments, he returned to find that Dean had indeed stayed where he’d been left. Castiel praised him, but simply. He didn’t want Dean getting an ego. </p><p> </p><p>Taking his seat again, Castiel made a show of unzipping his pants and bringing out the tip of his cock. He watched Dean’s face intently; saw the way his eyes went wide and he gulped. Cas was thick, almost intimidatingly so; it ran in his family. </p><p> </p><p>Taking a moment to admire the way that Dean was looking at him, Cas finally patted his thighs and said, “Up.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean scrambled to his feet and straddled Cas, his knees sinking into the couch, hands braced on Cas’ shoulders. He waited while Dean balanced, his own dick bobbing between them. Once Dean was settled, Cas placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face and kissed those gorgeous pink lips. They tasted just as he’d imagined, like something windswept with a little hint of whiskey, and something spicy underneath it all. The kiss was slow, gentle and lingering.  It was not meant to be a way to turn his lover on, yet it was more erotic than Cas could have ever imagined.</p><p> </p><p>When he pulled back, Dean’s pupils were wide, his lips parted, breathing unsteady. Reaching down with one hand, Cas picked up the cock ring, and took hold of Dean with the other. His boy’s dick was long, curving just a fraction to the left.  The hot, velvety skin taunted Cas as he kept his eyes locked on Dean’s and slid the cock ring into place. He was so nice, because he’d picked one that would allow Dean to feel intense pleasure, but also keep him from coming before Cas was finished with him. </p><p> </p><p>“Cas,” Dean whispered.</p><p> </p><p>A sharp crack echoed around them as Castiel smacked Dean’s ass cheek with an open palm. “What did I tell you about bad boys, Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>The muffled gasp that came from Dean’s lips was a thing of beauty. He squirmed at the spank, his dick twitching, as he said, “That you don’t fuck them.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s right.”</p><p> </p><p>Picking up the bottle of lube, Castiel clicked it open and coated his fingers liberally until they were slick.  Then, Castiel reached behind Dean and pushed his finger slowly into  Dean’s hole. “Someday I’d love to lick you open,” he said without thinking. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm, yes, Sir.  Please,” Dean swiveled his hips, asking Cas to breach him.</p><p> </p><p>But Castiel’s mind had ground to a screeching halt. Why had he said that?  How could he give someone false hope that they would ever see him again. He didn’t do more than one night. Not ever. What was it about Dean that made him want to keep him?</p><p> </p><p>“Sir?” Dean had stopped moving and was looking down at him with concern.  It almost brought them out of the scene, but Cas pulled himself together. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing, kitten,” Cas said, pushing firmly at Dean’s entrance. “I was just thinking about how good you’re going to look over my lap.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir.”  Dean’s breathing picked up. </p><p> </p><p>Cas pushed a finger inside of Dean, slowly, as far as he could.  He moved it about, pressing gently, searching for that one, perfect, spot. <em> There it was. </em>  In his lap, Dean keened and his hips jerked forward.  The precum oozing out of his cock smeared across the material of Castiel’s tie. Fuck, that was beautiful. </p><p> </p><p>Since he’d already thought of it, Cas loosened the now-stained tie with one hand while finger fucking Dean with the other. He could tell that Dean was trying to grind down onto Cas’ hand, but he was holding back. Such restraint deserved praise. </p><p> </p><p>“Such a good boy for me, Dean.  Do you like being good for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm yes…<em> Sir </em>!”  He almost forgot, and Castiel chuckled darkly at Dean’s panicked tone. </p><p> </p><p>“Sweet boy, so good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just for you, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>Once Cas’ tie was off he held it up between them and stopped moving the fingers that he had in Dean’s ass. “I would like to tie this around your wrists for the duration of this scene, Dean. If you are amenable to that, I <em> will </em> need a verbal yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!  Oh, fuck yes, please!”</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Removing his fingers with a squelching sound, Dean whimpered as he was emptied. “Don’t whine, kitten.  I’ll fill you back up again.”  He quickly tied the tie around Dean’s wrists, tightly, but enough that it wouldn’t chafe and that his lover could move.</p><p> </p><p>Once he was restrained, Dean braced himself by placing his palms onto Cas’ chest, his wrists bound one over the other. Castiel allowed himself a moment to admire the sight as he slicked up the medium sized plug. He showed it to Dean, a silent question if he was all right with the size and Dean nodded quickly. Castiel raised his eyebrow again and Dean’s hoarse voice said, “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>The plug was a tighter fit than two of Cas’s fingers and Dean’s eyes were almost rolling back in his head as Castiel filled him with the unyielding silicone plug.  “You’re so eager for it, aren’t you, Dean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Want you,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>“And I want you, but first you need to be punished for being rude at the club.  Tell me what you did, pet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Took your drink,” Dean said as the flared base of the plug rested against his pucker.  “Teased you, sir.  So sorry, sorry sir. I want you.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you’ll have me,” Cas said.  “Once you’ve taken your spanking.  Now,” he paused and waited for Dean to open those bright, mossy green eyes and look at him. “Put yourself over my lap.  I’m going to warm you up with my hand, and then I think ten with the paddle?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean nodded. “Yes Sir!”</p><p> </p><p>He slipped off of Castiel’s lap and moved so that his perfectly shaped form was resting over Castiel’s lap. Dean’s hot skin brushed Cas’ exposed cockhead and he had to bite back a moan. </p><p> </p><p>With Dean nestled in his lap, those rounded cheeks, the kind that every top wanted to slide between, Cas could almost picture heaven. He pushed lightly on the base of the plug as Dean settled in place, making his boy moan. </p><p> </p><p>When Dean finally stilled, Cas raised his hand, and brought it down with a hard smack. Dean jolted and his hard dick rubbed against Cas. It was gorgeous. “That’s it, kitten,” he said. “Take your punishment like a good boy.”  </p><p> </p><p>Another spank. This one fast and with only his finger tips. Castiel rubbed the pink flesh of Dean’s cheeks before spanking once, then twice, in quick succession. Dean was moaning, humping into Cas’ lap and begging for more.  “Please, Sir!  Yes!  I’ll be a good boy next time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you will,” Cas went along with it, though he never allowed talk of the future, even in the midst of a scene. He was breaking his own boundaries and that would require examination and soul-searching—but not now. Right now was for enjoying this delectable, young, muscular man, who was currently begging for him. </p><p> </p><p>For several minutes, Castiel spanked Dean.  Some hard, others soft. Different speeds and places, but all along the man’s butt and upper thighs. Dean’s rounded apple cheeks were a candy colored bright red, light lines of fingerprints showing up on the smooth skin. God, he was perfect. Cas could spend his life getting to know this man’s body.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stop it, Castiel.  It’s dangerous. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Abruptly, he stopped.  Dean, had been shouting, quieted slightly.  “I think you’re ready for the paddle now, Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, please, Sir!  I don’t need it. I’m a good boy, please don’t—it hurts, Cas!”</p><p> </p><p>Dean froze in his lap as soon as the name left his lips. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, Sir!”</p><p> </p><p>“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Castiel shook his head and picked up the slim leather padded instrument. “I was going to have you take ten with the paddle, but you just used my name.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dean’s voice was quiet, perfectly capturing the regret that was needed for that moment. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to add five more.  Can you take that, Dean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir.”</p><p> </p><p>The first hit was quick, before Dean had finished speaking. He cried out, the sound punching from his lungs. “Ow!”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel knew that the paddle stung more than his hand, he hoped that meant Dean would use his pretty voice even more. He wanted to know what kind of sounds that Dean could make. </p><p> </p><p>Spank. Spank. <em> Spank. </em></p><p> </p><p>He didn’t make Dean count, he knew that the younger man was most likely overwhelmed and trying not to slip up once again. Another smack with the paddle. Then one more. </p><p> </p><p>By the time he reached ten, Dean was sniffling, but he hadn’t said anything remotely close to his safeword. He screamed and begged and howled, asking Cas to stop—“Please, sir!  It hurts”—but he never used the word. </p><p> </p><p>“Dean,” Cas paused. “Do you remember your safeword?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Poughkeepsie.”</p><p> </p><p>“And are you using it now?”</p><p> </p><p>“No sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Fourteen. Fifteen.  And then he stopped. Cas threw the paddle down and helped move Dean out of his lap.  He positioned his lover on his knees, tied wrists dangling as Dean’s elbows braced on the armrest. </p><p> </p><p>As Cas moved behind him, he pressed sweet kisses along Dean’s neck and back, giving him whispered praise that calmed Dean’s gasps. He wasn’t crying, but it was close. It felt amazing. </p><p> </p><p>“You look so beautiful, Dean. I’m very proud of you.”  Dean only nodded, his red ass presented for Castiel.  “Now, my precious good boy,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s neck. “You have two choices.”  He waited while Dean processed and then said, “Either you can sit in my lap, with that plug in your ass and stroke us together until we both come.”  Cas paused. “<em> Or </em> I’ll fuck you, but you don’t get to come.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh damn,” Dean sounded genuinely conflicted. After a beat his said, “Fuck me, please!  I need it!  I need to feel you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well,” Cas removed the plug in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the floor as well. He unzipped and pulled a condom from his back pocket, sliding it on quickly. “Are you ready for me, Dean?  Ready to feel me split you open?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sir,” Dean moaned. “Wanna feel your fat cock!”</p><p> </p><p>Cas entered him, gliding in until he was fully inside of Dean. The hot, almost crushing intensity had him wanting to come right there, but he wanted to drive Dean wild first. Allowing a few moments to adjust and being himself back from the edge, Cas focused on controlling his breathing while watching the small beads of sweat collecting on Dean’s spine. </p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Dean said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel <em> moved </em>.  He slid experimentally out before pushing back inside the heat of Dean’s ass. A few shallow thrusts and he was pumping deeply once more. Beneath him, on his knees over the sofa, Dean was crying out, babbling about how good it was; how big and thick Cas’ cock was. He wanted more. He begged Castiel to fuck him hard. </p><p> </p><p>It was difficult to hold back. Eventually, he no longer could. </p><p> </p><p>Castiel was pistoning his hips, fucking Dean fiercely.  His lover was meeting him on each thrust and almost sobbing in pleasure as his ass was ridden hard. “So good for me, Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you, Sir!”</p><p> </p><p>He was hitting Dean’s prostate over and over, the man under him was thrusting backward, moaning, in a futile attempt to come, despite the cock ring sitting snugly around him. “Feels so good, Cas!”</p><p> </p><p>He allowed the slip of his name, just this once, since he was already on the edge. Ruthlessly pounding into Dean’s ass, Castiel gripped his lover’s hips as he fucked Dean.  Christ, his boy felt so good around him. He was close. So very, very close. </p><p> </p><p>“Dean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yes!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m coming,” Cas managed. “Gonna fill your naughty ass with my come.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Cas—fill me up.”</p><p> </p><p>He was done. Emptying his seed into the condom, as he made shallow thrusts into Dean.  He hadn’t come that hard in ages; maybe ever. </p><p> </p><p>Before he could think, and going against what he’d said, Cas pulled Dean up, cradling the man’s back against his chest, his cock still buried inside of him.  He reached around the front and pulled the cock ring off, and immediately began to stroke Dean’s prick. </p><p> </p><p>It was only about three passes when Dean was coming, spilling over Cas’ hand with a sobbing gasp. “So good!”</p><p> </p><p>They collapsed onto the couch as one, covered in sweat and gasping for air.  Cas rolled so that his back was to the sofa and Dean was cradled in his arms. The intensity of the high washed over them both, and before Castiel could fight it, he followed his lover into the blackness of sleep, still buried in Dean’s ass.  </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t wake until the sun had risen. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Success Is Stress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean makes a move and Cas gets a curveball.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's a cat in here!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean Winchester practically skipped into work the next morning, tossing his bag down at his desk and giving his best friend, Charlie, a wink.  He’d awoke in the night, with Cas wrapped around him, still asleep.  Uncomfortable on the sofa, and unwilling to just crawl into the man’s bed alone, Dean had cleaned himself up, dressed, and hoofed it back to The Bunker, where his car was still parked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shower, a shave and clean clothes made him feel even more like a new man. It had been ages since he’d had such an amazing night. He hoped that he’d see Cas again.  Dean may have been unwilling to wake his companion, but it hadn’t stopped him from leaving a note with his phone number by the coffee maker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, the day was looking up as he flopped down at his desk, popped his feet up and grinned at Charlie. “Heya, Red.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She squinted at him. “You are unnaturally happy this early in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got laid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie snorted, but offered a congratulatory fist bump. “I thought you were working last night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was,” he said. “But I got the client squared away and decided to stick around for myself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why am I not surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t get it, Charlie!  This guy...he was amazing. Something about him, I don’t know,” Dean felt as though he was babbling incoherently. “I gave him my number.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Charlie gaped. “Doth my ears deceive me?  Dean Winchester, playboy extraordinaire, actually gave a guy his real phone number?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not directly,” Dean admitted. “I left a note.  But yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. You’ve got it bad after one night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not,” he said. Charlie stared back with that </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> on her face that made him uneasy. “Okay, maybe I do. Doesn’t mean we’re going to talk about that part of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I have no desire to hear about the part with the penises, so I guess we’re changing the subject.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie clicked away at her computer for a few seconds before turning to him once again.  “Do you want to take this new client today or would you like me to do it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the guy’s deal?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back at her computer screen and gave it a quick glance before speaking. “Name’s Balthazar, thirty years old, says he’s a photographer.”  Dean nodded along with all the information that Charlie was giving him. “His work has been featured in a few magazines and popular internet blogs.  Mostly celebrity stuff, but the occasional travel or nature shot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stood up and walked around to Charlie’s side, leaning over to look at the file on her laptop. “He’s attractive,” Dean commented. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” Charlie narrowed her eyes. “He’s hiring us to help him with a girl he met at a fundraiser a few weeks back.  If you meet with him, you can’t hit on him. If you bag him, we won’t get paid. And no pay means we’ll end up losing this office because we can’t be late on rent again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I could just have Sammy buy the building right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s the fun in that?” Charlie winked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eyeing up the file for this Balthazar dude one last time, Dean clapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “I’ll take him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Emailing you the file now,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean sat back down at his own desk and pulled up the information. As he scanned through the file on one Balthazar Roché, Dean smiled at the thought of how he and Charlie had built this entire business from the ground up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Four Years Ago…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean Winchester had always been a good looking guy, and he knew it—he’d played to his strengths all through school, after all.  He was smart, but on the subjects that he struggled with there was nothing a well placed wink couldn’t fix.  Dean was capable.  He knew how to get shit done. He might not be a MENSA level genius like Charlie or Sammy, but Dean was good with people. Good at getting them to do what he wanted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Though, he was twenty-four years old, and Dean still didn’t know quite what he wanted to do when he grew up.  Not that he was going to think about that tonight. No way.  Tonight was for celebrating with his two favorite people.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crossing through the crowded nightclub, Dean wove between gyrating, intoxicated humans as the bass of some random pop song assaulted his ears. The flashing lights were enough for him to make out some features, and it wasn’t long before he spotted his little brother over by the bar.  Not that it was difficult, Sammy wasn’t exactly ‘little’ anymore, standing six foot four. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he neared, Dean could see Charlie leaning against the bar next to Sam, laughing at something the young brunette next to her was saying.  “Hey, Charlie!  Sammy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s Sam.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whatever,” Dean brushed off the correction.  “So?  How does it feel, man?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How does what feel?” Sam deadpanned. “Turning twenty-one? Or getting cast in my first film?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Either?  Both?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam laughed and took a sip of his beer. “It feels fucking awesome.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Atta boy!” Dean slapped his younger brother on the shoulder with a grin. That was when he saw Sam tracking someone with his eyes.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When Dean looked around, it didn’t take long for him to locate the person in question. She was just Sammy’s type—small and blonde. No matter if he was chasing girls or guys, Sam had a pretty distinctive type. Petite. And he usually went for blondes, though a few brunettes and redheads had slipped through in the past. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean gave a low whistle.  “The mighty hunter has cornered his prey,” he laughed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up, Dean.”  But Sam was still watching the blonde in the skintight white dress. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In a split second, Dean made up his mind. “Be right back,” he said, taking off before Sam or Charlie could protest. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He made his way over to the young woman, who was standing with a few girlfriends, as well as two younger men who were outdoing themselves to try and impress. One was boasting of a yacht when Dean rolled up.  “Hey sweetheart,” he said to the blonde, taking her hand so quickly that she couldn’t pull away. “I haven’t seen you in years!  How have you been?”  Dean looked up at the others in her group, particularly at the two guys trying to hit on her and her friends. “Oh. Sorry there, you don’t mind if I steal her away and catch up, do you?  Not everyday you meet your long lost cousin at a bar, is it?”  Before the other men could object, Dean was leading the girl away. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Surprisingly, she came with him. Once they were several feet away though, she stopped and looked up at him with an odd grin. “It’s been so long, cousin…?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dean,” he said. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cousin Dean, right. Well, what did you want with me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Two things.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Only two?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh honey, you’re not exactly my type.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She seemed to pout at that. “Cute, blonde, girl next door who bakes in her spare time isn’t your type?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean shook his head. “Change the blonde to brunette and the girl to a guy and you got me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked at him quizzically. “You’re gay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“For the most part.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” the girl drew the word out and narrowed her eyes a little. “So...what were the two things you wanted from me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“One,” Dean held up a finger, “Your name.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He waited until she said, “Jess.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jess,” he repeated. “Pretty. The second thing I wanted was to introduce you to my brother.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is he gay too?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sometimes. Tonight I think he’s looking for someone just like you,” Dean pointed and watched Jess follow until her eyes landed on Sam who was fidgeting and watching them intently. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wow,” Jess breathed. “You’re family sure lucked out with the genes, huh?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sammy got the better ones, I promise,” he said. “Come on, let me introduce you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lead the way…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Later, after Sam and Jess had disappeared to who knows where to take their sexual tension somewhere more private, Dean threw his arm around Charlie’s shoulder and grinned. “I did good, didn’t I, Charlie Bear?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were always the best wingman, Dean,” his bestie agreed. “You know,” she looked up at him. “You could use that. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>We </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>could use that talent.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah? How?” Dean chuckled. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, sometimes people need a little push to get their game going and you know all the buttons.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You don’t do too bad yourself, Red.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know. That’s why I propose we do this as a team.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do what?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Help people find love.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And that was history. ‘WingBitches’ became a booming business. Charlie insisted on a gender neutral name, and she said that anyone could be a bitch, so the concept stuck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Charlie had known what a big hit they’d become. When she’d first proposed the business of professional wingmen to him, Dean had cracked up. He might have been drunk, but he wasn’t stupid.  There was no way that people would pay him and Charlie to help them get laid or ask someone on a date. No way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Four years later and they did a damn good business. Charlie made a big deal about making a profit, but they weren’t actually hurting for money. Especially with Sam waiting in the wings in case they ever needed help.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Little Sammy Winchester who got cast in an indie film on his twenty-first birthday that went on to earn him an Oscar. Sam Winchester, who was now a household name due to his action movie franchise, rippling six pack, and tendency to do his own stunts. Add the Oscar and the fact that he’d graduated from Stanford University pre-law, while still filming made Hollywood sit up and take notice. He was the golden boy of cinema—at least for now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was so proud of his brother. They had worked and sacrificed and dug themselves up from nothing to where they were now and it felt amazing. Dean might not be a movie star with millions in his bank account, but he had built his own business from scratch, with Charlie, and they were doing damn well for themselves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling himself out of fantasy land, Dean gave up reminiscing to focus on the task at hand. He was still riding high off of that incredible orgasm and he was secretly crossing his fingers that Cas called. Now wasn’t for that, however.  Now was the time to learn as much as he could about this Balthazar character so that when the time came, he could sell the man to a potential lover as best as he could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the rest of the morning, Dean read up on the client file and made a tentative game plan. And if he occasionally would glance out the window and think of electric blue eyes and pouting pink lips saying his name, at least Charlie didn’t comment on his boner. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*~*~*~*~*~*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel woke unsurprisingly alone.  Under normal circumstances he would have been grateful, but something inside of him twinged at the thought of Dean sneaking out in the middle of the night. Perhaps, if fate allowed, they would meet again one day—and Castiel would be double damn sure that there was aftercare involved then. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted on the sofa, and his face came into contact with a soft, furry belly.  Second later, the claws dug into his scalp and he yelped loudly.  The large, black cat that he’d adopted last week glared at him and removed his claws. Cas still hadn’t been able to settle on a name, so he had just been calling the cat, ‘Cat.’  His brother, Gabriel, had stopped by a few days earlier and given Cas shit for it. He’d also suggested a plethora of food related names, all of which Cas had vetoed. He would think of something. Eventually the perfect name would come to him, he knew it. Until then, he and Cat would be just fine. Cat and Cas. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The shelter had said Cat was a Bombay, a notoriously friendly breed, and Cas had witnessed first hand how loving the cat was. With the exception of that particular moment and the accidental belly touch, Cat had been the perfect little gentleman—until he wanted scritches, and then Cat was shameless. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing himself up, Cas felt a head rush and slumped a bit into the couch. What a night. What a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking amazing </span>
  </em>
  <span>night. Once he felt steady, Cas stood in a graceful movement and headed toward the bathroom. He did his business, brushed his teeth and walked back out to the kitchen. He was just in time to hear Cat screaming for food.  With a chuckle, he fed the large creature and gave him a pat on the head before starting the coffee maker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was when he saw it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Next to his beloved java machine was a crumpled receipt with writing scrawled across it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Cas—</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>As much of a cliché as it is, I had a great time last night and I would really like to see you again. If you think that’s something you’d want as well, give me a call. 650-555-2229 </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>—Dean </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean--with a presumably a working phone number. Castiel wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Though, he wasn’t adverse to reaching out to Dean.  For some reason, the man was intriguing and Cas felt an almost gravitational pull toward him. It was most unlike him. Before he could talk himself out of it, Cas entered the number into his contact list.  He would get through his day and then see how things felt that evening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Coffee made, Cas poured it into his favorite mug, a large ceramic beehive with the words ‘You Are Bee-utiful’ printed on the handle. It was a holdover from when he’d been younger. His uncle, Cain, had kept bees and instilled his love of them in Cas. Hopefully, now that he had some land and a bit of privacy with his new home, he could get himself a hive of his own. Cas had always found beekeeping very relaxing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he sat down at his laptop, Cas stared at Dean’s number on his phone while he waited for the computer to boot up. Despite his rather awkward people skills, Cas knew that he shouldn't text so soon.  He could at least wait for the evening.  Setting down the phone as the laptop came to life, Cas tried to focus on his work. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ran a gossip blog for the popular celebrity news outlet, ‘Dish the Dirt,’ and even though he didn’t care a whit about movie stars and musicians, Castiel loved his job. He enjoyed writing immensely, and he liked to indulge in the perks of the job. He was always allowed past the velvet ropes, never denied entry to clubs, events or even cruises.  Everyone wanted to make sure that he saw them, and that he wrote good things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Castiel was on a rampage his wit was acerbic and could change the course of a celebrity’s career.  He was just grateful that he wasn’t a household name like some of them. His boss, Crowley, always wanted him to post pictures with his blog, but Cas refused. According to Crowley, he’d have the world eating out of his hand if they “saw those baby blues,” and that was the last thing that Cas wanted. He didn’t crave the spotlight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His email had a few pieces of spam that hadn’t been filtered out, so he deleted them before moving on to the relevant ones as he sipped his coffee. The first was from his brother, Gabriel, with a new scene from his latest script.  Cas skimmed through it before he was distracted by a new message coming in from his best friend, Balthazar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>To: Novak.Castiel@DTD .com</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>From: Roche.Baltha@DTD .com</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Lucky the Leprechaun wants a meeting this afternoon. The email was sent out yesterday and it was for your whole department. I noticed that your name had been left off. I assume it’s his horrid secretary’s work.  Make sure you’re there by one. Ciao. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Balth</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What in the ever loving…?  Castiel raked his hands down his face. Was the underhanded manipulation ever going to end?  He was lucky to have Balthazar. If his best friend hadn’t been a stand up person, then perhaps Anna would have gotten away with it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that his nefarious co-worker, Anna Milton, had somehow managed to convince their boss’ secretary to leave him off of the email. It had most likely involved money changing hands because cash and jewels were about the only thing that Bela would get out of bed for. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Cas tried to center himself.  He exhaled slowly, but his jaw was still clenched. Castiel made it a habit to always try and see the good in people—which might not be the best idea in his line of work.  It was too much negative effort to actively </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone. However, if he had to admit it, he might hate Anna. She was devious, rude, and out for Cas’ head. She wanted his job, his column, and she would stop at nothing to get her delicate little hands on it. Even bribery, it seemed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There were a few more hours before he’d have to make an appearance, but LA traffic was shit at all hours of the day, so Castiel decided to get ready right away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hopping into the shower to wash and shave, Cas quickly cleaned himself under the warm spray. It soothed the muscles in his back that were cramped from sleeping on the sofa last night. He should know better—he was getting too old to sleep anywhere that wasn’t his memory foam mattress. Cas wondered if Dean liked memory foam. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean certainly was something. If there was ever a chance that Castiel would throw in the towel and settle down, it would be with someone like Dean. Again, he considered reaching out via text, though he quickly dismissed the idea. He was a grown man, not a twelve year old with his first crush. Besides, patience was a virtue; or so they said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he was dressed and ready, Cas gathered up his things.  There was time for a quick stop to grab some lunch and then he’d head to the office. Castiel rarely went in, he had much more leeway than most employees and either worked from home or on location. Whenever there were film festivals or premieres that weren’t in Hollywood’s zip code, Cas was sent to get ‘the dirt.’ He’d had many lovely, company funded ‘vacations,’ where all he had to do was find out which celebrity was cheating or gaining weight. Ah, such was the life of a gossip blogger. He couldn’t really complain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a place along the way that specialized in crepés, and was a particular favorite of Cas and his brother.  Gabriel always ordered dessert ones, stuffed full of cream and fruit and sugar, while Cas usually went for the savory. On occasion, he would mix it up, seeing as the place served around fifty different kinds of the dish, and Cas was always game to try something new. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ordered a plate of two spinach, mushroom, feta, and red pepper savories and one blueberry cream just for fun.  The wait wasn’t very long, and Cas spent the time between catching up on some work on his phone, and eyeing the people around him in case he caught wind of a story. One never knew who they would run into in Los Angeles.  Even a minor sighting could bring in some work, but there was always a chance that someone like Sam Winchester would wander into the same grocery store or coffee shop. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel had been following Sam Winchester’s career for quite a few years, ever since the young man’s fortune turned to fame. He was a personable and incredibly attractive man, who was actually talented.  Unfortunately for Cas, Sam never seemed to slip up. When an actor of that caliber and regard made a misstep, it was pure gold for someone like Castiel. So far, however, Hollywood’s ‘It Boy’ was squeaky clean. Shame, really. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The food arrived and Castiel dug in, savoring the taste of the meal.  His usual fare was delicious as always, and when he tasted the blueberry cream, he had to admit that Gabriel’s praise of the dish was not overstated—it was absolutely delightful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he’d finished up and paid, sans any celebrity sightings, Cas got back into his car for the arduous drive to the office. The building that his boss, Crowley, rented for them was just on the outskirts of downtown, and the drive from Venice, while only fifteen-ish miles took around forty-five minutes this time of day. Sometimes Castiel wished that he could pack it in and move somewhere that he didn’t spend half of his life sitting in traffic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Parking was a bitch, as usual, but eventually Castiel was in the elevator headed up to the sixth floor.  As he walked through the cubicles of lower ranked writers and the interns, Cas waved at most everyone and even stopped to chat with a few. By the time he reached the conference room, he was ready for another cup of joe and a seat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anna was already there, along with a few other writers who worked on the site. Hannah, Gadreel, and Ambriel were all chatting together amiably, while Anna ignored them. However, when Cas walked into the room, she sat up straighter and glared openly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Castiel,” she said tightly. “We weren’t expecting you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I imagine you wouldn’t be,” he said simply, taking a seat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The others stopped speaking for a moment and watched the exchange. Eventually, Gadreel managed to say, “It’s good to see you,” before turning back to the girls. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the conference room banged open and Crowley sauntered in, with his secretary, Bela, trailing behind him. Castiel didn’t miss the looks between Bela and Anna, or the shocked look on Bela’s face when she saw him. Bitches. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking his seat at the head of the table, Crowley crossed his legs and smiled thinly at them all. “Glad to see you all managed to find the time in your busy schedules to accommodate me on such short notice.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He eyed each of them up and Cas was the only one to stare back at their boss. Crowley could be intimidating, but Castiel has always thought that he was mostly bluster. Much more bark than bite, as it were. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to cut right to the chase because I despise these little get-to-gethers,” Crowley said. “Marv has decided to retire—thankfully.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about time,” Anna muttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which means that there is an opening for an editor.  Now,” Crowley made eye contact with each of them.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will make the decision on who will be given the promotion, and you all know how difficult I am to please—so, for the sake of my sanity, make a damn effort.  You have two weeks before I announce who will get the position—so don’t dally.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word, he got up and walked out of the room, leaving the five writers glancing warily at one another. Across the table, Anna grinned ferally at him. “Isn’t it interesting that editors have the power to hire and fire here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It would have sounded like a throwaway comment, without the tone, and if she hadn’t been staring right at Cas when she said it. Just fucking perfect. Castiel was damn sure that if Anna got the promotion, she would make sure that he was on the unemployment line before the end of the day. There was no way that he was about to let that happen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other three were decent staff writers but would never be able to handle the position, so Castiel wasn’t too concerned about them. But Anna—that was another story. She was good...</span>
  <em>
    <span>damn good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  This was going to be interesting. He smiled back at Anna and said, “That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>interesting, and wonderful to know for when I get the job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed and she looked as though she might spit on him.  “We’ll just see about that, Novak. I wouldn’t count on having a job much longer if I were you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your threats need work. They’re both empty and pathetic.”  He stood up and walked out of the room without a backward glance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel had a feeling that things were about to get cutthroat around here. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Crash Into You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hiya Sammy!  <br/>Gabe has a boat.<br/>Dean goes to work.<br/>Cas' cat still doesn't have a name.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Tara mentioned, is indeed, Tara Benchley from S2.18 'Hollywood Babylon.'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam Winchester was kicked back in his personal chair, reading a book between takes. The reviews had raved, and the novel had shot to the top of the New York Times Bestseller List, so Sam had gone out and purchased a copy. So far, it was decent, but he didn’t find it to be ‘life-changing,’ or ‘more classic than the classics.’  At least he was remotely entertained. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Inside of his pocket, his phone buzzed.  Sam finished the paragraph he was on before placing an actual bookmark between the pages.  It was a text from Dean informing him that his brother would be home late due to work. Sam shook his head fondly.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The company that Dean and Charlie ran was unconventional, but effective—Sam could attest to their gifts first hand. Whenever he’d gone out with those two before he’d become famous, he’d ended up going home with someone. Man or woman, few could resist the charms of Dean or Charlie recommending someone.  They had a gift. Whoever Dean was ‘wingbitching’ tonight was one lucky SOB.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looked like it would be a microwave dinner for one tonight.  Maybe takeout, if he was feeling adventurous. Sam sighed. He was so far from the Hollywood Heartthrob that everyone thought he was. Sure, he had the brains, looks, and talent, but he wasn’t the type to go out and party.  Sam’s idea of a great Friday night was dinner with someone he cared about, good conversation, maybe reading together or a board game, and cuddling by the fireplace. He thought that people like him were called ambiverts. He lived for his solitude and only had a few close people in his life, but when he was in front of the camera he was wild and outgoing.  It was like having two very distinct and separate personalities sometimes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam,” one of the PA’s called out to him.  “You, Rowena, and Tara are needed on set now!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam tucked his silenced phone into his bag and set the whole thing on his chair.  He turned swiftly, and immediately bashed right into someone. When Sam looked down, he wasn’t surprised to see that the man he’d crashed into was shorter than him, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>shocked that despite the force of their collision, the guy hadn’t gone crashing to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit, are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man looked vaguely familiar as he rubbed his head and blinked a few times. Obviously he worked on the film since he was on the set, which was locked down tightly, but Sam didn’t recognize the guy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine, kiddo—no harm done.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man opened his mouth to respond but was silenced by the nameless PA rushing up to Sam and grabbing his arm.  “Sam, they need you </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  Lucifer is chomping at the bit to get this scene in the bag.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Yeah, I’ll bet,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could say anything the man said, “I’m sure. Have a good shoot.  Break a leg and all that jazz,” and then he was gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam allowed himself to be dragged toward the set, but he kept glancing over his shoulder to where the short guy had rushed off. Just his luck that there was someone working on this movie that was just his type and could form sentences around him...and Sam had no idea who he was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he asked the PA.  “Who was that guy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What guy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shocker. People liked to think that the set of a movie was like a big family, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Sometimes it was, especially with a television show that one could feasibly work on for years. Not so much with a film like this—a sequel to one of Sam’s hit action series.  Each one had a new cast—with the exception of him—and different directors. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This go-round, Sam had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>blessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with one of the bigger names in action films, Lucifer Vincenté.  He was a complete asshole who liked to hit on Sam.  And he was a total genius behind the camera, so Sam put up with it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, he muttered, “Nevermind,” and walked onto the set. He could ask Tara or Rowena later if they knew of Short, Blonde, and Sturdy. Sam needed to know the name of the guy he was going to dream about tonight while he sat alone by the fire with a mediocre bestselling novel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*~*~*~*~*~*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gabriel was still kicking himself over that afternoon’s embarrassing encounter with Sam Winchester. Why was it that words were his life, yet when he came face to face with his ‘celebrity crush’ he was at a loss for anything clever to say. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mentally smacking his head as he bustled around the 50-foot Cruiser yacht that he’d been left by his Aunt Amara, Gabriel wished that he could go back in time and say something witty to Sam.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least his home was badass. His aunt, upon retirement, had given Cas her old vacation cottage in Venice Beach, and left Gabriel her yacht and the slip.  She said she wanted to ‘travel light’ which was why she was giving them such expensive bequests.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gabriel had promptly broken the lease on his rat trap apartment in Los Feliz, and settled on the boat. Since everything was fully paid off and owned—and now his—Gabriel’s expenses dropped drastically. The same happened for Cas when he’d moved into the cottage. It was a life changer, and their aunt knew it. She’d always doted on them; the only children of her ne’er-do-well brother.  Amara was a force to be reckoned with and she was more of a parent to Gabe and Cas than Chuck had ever been. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now Gabriel was living his best life on board his own yacht, docked in the Pacific, and working his way up the Hollywood ladder as his scripts got more and more traffic. His original works had only made it to the indie level thus far, but his staff writing was what paid the bills. He was currently working on Sam Winchester’s latest action fare, which was torture in multiple ways. Not only did Gabriel despise just about everything about the script, he had to spend each day looking at Sam, when the actor had no clue he existed. It was painful, to say the least. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Things could be worse, he supposed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gabriel had been wallowing when Cas called that night. His brother wanted him to come by the cottage and have dinner.  He just hoped that Cassie had given the damn cat a name by now. Pulling on a clean shirt and running a hand through his hair, Gabe disembarked his floating house and headed toward the lot where his car was parked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Climbing into his rusting yellow VW beetle, Gabriel cranked the engine while muttering, “Come on, girl—you can do it...please.  Do it for daddy and I’ll give you all the oil you want—Yes!”  His small car guzzled oil by the gallon and had seen better days, but he loved her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The drive to Cas’ place was only a few miles down the coast, but took almost fifteen minutes.  When Gabe pulled into Castiel’s driveway, he smiled.  The overhanging trees that lined the driveway made the cottage seem like it was in another world, far away from the bustle of Los Angeles.  It was quaint—and just Cassie’s style. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Honking the horn before he got out, both to alert Cas </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>irritate him, Gabe chuckled when his little bro emerged with a frown on his face. Bounding up the few steps to the porch, Gabe wrapped his brother in a tight hug.  “Good to see you, Cassie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first words out of Cas’ mouth were said calmly, yet grave. “I’m having a crisis.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?  Are you okay?  What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I...met a man.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gabe smacked his brother on the arm and scolded, “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt you’ll perish from that—I always assumed diabetic coma for you, and an aneurysm for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cripes, Cassie, you’re such a downer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They entered the cottage and the enormous black cat that Cas had adopted ran up to them, curling himself around Gabe’s legs while loudly meowing at him.  “Is he okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He wants food,” Cas said blandly as they walked into the kitchen.  “I gave him his dinner just before you arrived, but he probably is hoping that you’ll give him another.  I swear, that cat is ninety percent stomach.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Buddy,” Gabe said to the creature. “Your daddy says you ate already.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The indignant meow was followed by the cat stalking off, tail held high. “That’s usually the kind of greeting I get from people,” Gabe mused, as he joined Cas at the small breakfast nook table.  “Okay. So, you’re having a crisis. Would you like to talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why did you invite me over?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas blinked at him for a good minute before he sighed. “I met a man last night at The Bunker.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good mozzarella sticks there,” Gabe commented. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“His name is Dean and what we shared was...</span>
  <em>
    <span>profound</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Gabriel, I have never experienced anything like it. He went home while I was sleeping but he also left his number. I want to call, but is it too early?  I know that The Cosmopolitan says to wait three days or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, first off—don’t read that garbage magazine Cas. What the fuck?  Secondly, don’t call—text. It’s a bit soon for a call, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t reach out for some more booty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t just want to booty call him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gabriel’s mouth fell open. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  Who are you and where’s my baby bro?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m right here,” Cas deadpanned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no you’re not—you’re a pod person.  The Cassie I know and love doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> relationships. He does one-nighters and then pulls the disappearing act. You’ve never slept with someone that you picked up at a bar more than once!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps I’ve changed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently.”  Gabriel pushed his toes up and rocked on the back legs of his chair. “This guy was really that amazing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I felt something for him, Gabriel. And I’m not sure if that is a good or bad thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whistling, Gabriel said, “That’s huge.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I also need to find something to report on that will secure me a promotion within the next two weeks or I’ll lose my job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold the fuck up, what?”  Cas quickly gave him the rundown about Marv’s retirement and Anna’s threats. “I wish I could rip her pretty red hair out by the root,” Gabe muttered. “Okay. So let’s deal with the easiest problem first. Text this Dean-o character, and then we’ll figure out the job sitch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Cas sounded so put-upon that Gabriel laughed loudly. “What should I say?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Gabriel. You’re supposed to be helpful.  And a writer!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a writer too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I write articles,” Cas said. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> write fiction, and very well, I might add.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Gabe said. “Do you want funny or normal?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Normal, for fuck’s sake,” Cas looked like he might be getting a migraine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, have you named your cat yet?” Gabriel asked suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?  No,” Cas blinked in confusion. “That’s not the task at hand—you are so flighty Gabe, always running from one thing to the next.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re going to be mean, then I won’t help you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cas sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> sighed. “Fine.  I’m sorry. Will you please tell me what to put in the text to Dean so I don’t sound like a desperate serial killer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s better,” Gabe grinned. He fished a green apple Jolly Rancher out of his pocket and took his time unwrapping it. “Okay, say, ‘Hello.’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The glare he got from his brother was worth it. “Fine!  ‘Hello, Dean.  This is Castiel Novak. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your company last night.’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he spoke, Castiel was frantically typing out the words. “It’s not too formal?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cassie, I hate to break it to you, but you’re just about the most formal guy I’ve ever met. You don’t want to pretend you’re something you aren’t. That’s how you get your heart broken down the road.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“True,” Cas mused. “Should I send it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why the fuck did you beg me for help if you weren’t going to send it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel narrowed his eyes, but he pressed the button and then immediately set his phone down as though burned. “What about my other problem?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The job?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Gabe sucked obnoxiously on the Jolly Rancher, clacking it around on his teeth. “That’s tricky. Either hire a hitman for Anna Banana, or get yourself one hell of a story.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>any stories like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe one will find you,” Gabe said. “You never know.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, he had no idea how right he really was. In forty-eight hours time, Castiel would have a second date </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the kind of story that could blow the lid off of some of Hollywood’s most beloved couples. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*~*~*~*~*~*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was out at Bar Marmont near Sunset when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He knew better than to even glance at it when he was out with a client.  The man in question, Balthazar Roché was seated across from him, enjoying a perfectly dry martini and eyeing the rest of the exclusive clientele. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There,” he said, indicating with his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean followed the cue and saw a woman at the bar, sitting primly, legs crossed, and her nose in a book.  Even from here, Dean could see that it wasn’t a novel off of the Time’s Bestseller list.  This was a huge, leather bound classic.  What kind of woman dressed like a sexy librarian and hung out at a celebrity bar reading something most likely read for Harvard college courses?  This little adventure got more and more interesting as time went by.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s hot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That she is,” Balthazar commented. “You remember the cover?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, she thinks you’re a film director,” Dean added.  “Because you lied when you met her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes it’s the only way to keep them all at bay,” Balthazar said. “However, I don’t know if she fell for my hook—which is where </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>come in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Dean chugged what was left of his scotch and gave Balthazar a wink before standing and making his way to the bar with his empty glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He moved deliberately and positioned himself right next to the woman. He knew her name was Atropos, and that she was passionate about the stars.  Balthazar had said she almost bordered on fanatical when it came to astrology which made sense, being her career. Despite her rather conservative appearance, she worked at a popular metaphysical shoppe, reading fortunes in multiple ways. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Dean moved to stand next to her, he glanced at the cover of her book, which read, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Moirai: The Threads of Fate’—</span>
  </em>
  <span>whatever the hell that was about.  “Interested in fortune telling?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up at him, and while she seemed intrigued, her face remained closed off. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One word, and it spoke volumes. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go away.’</span>
  </em>
  <span>  If he was looking for himself, he would have backed off, but this was business and he had a client counting on him. “Yeah, so is my buddy.  He’s always trying to get me to go have readings, but every time I’m anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>near </span>
  </em>
  <span>a tarot deck, the damn Tower comes up and I’m not about to deal with that disaster.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly she wasn’t so cold and closed off.  The target closed her book and regarded him. “My name’s Atropos,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Michael,” Dean lied smoothly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Tower, huh?  And what does your friend get usually?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, his cards always come up with The Lovers—lucky son of a bitch.  That’s him, over there,” Dean pointed back toward the table where Balthazar was sitting and pretending to be oblivious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Atropos said.  “I know him. We met a few weeks ago at the museum’s charity event for the preservation of the Greek monoliths on site.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Balthy loves all that history stuff. I think he’s even planning on doing a film soon about the life and myths of Ares.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Atropos said, looking gleeful.  “Would he mind if I joined you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt it,” Dean said happily.  “I was just abandoning him actually, I’m sure he’d love the company.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atropos stood and smoothed her houndstooth pencil skirt before picking up her massive book and her drink to follow Dean across the room. He quickly introduced the pair, who seemed to get along fantastically.  When he left a few moments later to report in to Charlie, the two of them were practically glued to each other at the small table.  One more job well done.  He hoped that they were happy with each other. Atropos seemed like a nice girl, and he was sure that Balthazar would be happy with her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once seated inside his precious sixty-seven Chevy Impala, Dean finally looked at his phone.  It was a text—a text from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  This night really couldn’t get any better!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could second guess himself, he tapped out a reply.  The response came through with incredible speed, inviting Dean for a walk around Griffith Park before nightfall. Dean agreed, and possibly set a speed record getting to his destination. After all, it wasn’t easy to go anywhere in ten minutes in LA.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear that I haven't abandoned this.  It just never got a lot of interest and then I got bogged down in Bangs and sort of forgot about the Wingbitches...apologies.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>🍭I am on Tumblr as crowley-loves-usuk if anyone feels the urge to follow or message me. I love talking to readers! 🍭</p></blockquote></div></div>
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